


Whistle a Happy Strain

by Miss_Vile



Series: Nygmobblepot One Shots [10]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, adorable bickering, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:01:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22046824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Vile/pseuds/Miss_Vile
Summary: Betrayal and bruised consonance kept them from just picking up where they left off. There was no softness or warmth between them. Oswald was a ball of sharpened glass. Ed was a cage of ice.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Series: Nygmobblepot One Shots [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1396144
Comments: 7
Kudos: 119





	Whistle a Happy Strain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arcanemoody](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcanemoody/gifts).



> Named after Annette Hanshaw's [“If You Want the Rainbow (You Must Have the Rain)”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qcb3FB52lK4)
> 
> I wrote this for [alitbitmoody](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alitbitmoody/pseuds/alitbitmoody) over on the [Nygmobblepot Haven](https://discord.gg/jS5fAHK) discord for our secret gift exchange! They wanted some of that sweet, sweet post S5 developing relationship content. So, here we are. S5 Nygmobs doesn't come as natural to me so hopefully it doesn't suck! Enjoy!

Edward had to stay busy. Oswald's advice from years prior was the only thing keeping him from collapsing in on himself. If he was busy, he didn't _have_ to think. He could rest in the safety net of autopilot. He was content with that. For the time being.

No Man's Land left them scarred in more ways than one. Much like before, he kept his hallucinations a secret from Oswald. Visions of burning boilers, charred toys and pacifiers, shoes of all sizes... The smell was especially distressing. Nine months working on the submarine kept those intrusive thoughts at bay. At least during the day. His nights spent alone at his base bordered on unbearable. The night terrors made him restless, temperamental, and moody. Oswald had noticed but their tentative alliance kept him at a distance.

Betrayal and bruised consonance kept them from just picking up where they left off. There was no softness or warmth between them. Oswald was a ball of sharpened glass. Ed was a cage of ice.

That was until the grenade blast.

Oswald's vision had been impaired and he nearly died from the infection. He required someone he could trust at his side as he recovered. Jim advised Ed to keep a low profile until word got around that Hugo Strange and Nyssa al Ghul were to blame for Haven. Not him. However, Ed had to take the risk for Oswald's sake. Oswald needed medicine. So, Edward ventured outside.

He was shot on the way to the Green Zone. The injury wasn't life-threatening. Just inconvenient. The pain at least kept him distracted from the panic he felt about Oswald's condition. And, with any luck, they could find humor in the fact that Ed would have a matching scar on his right shoulder. Ed didn't even mind. A bullet wound and a broken clavicle was nothing compared to what Oswald had endured.

Sleeping was easier to accomplish lately. Partly due to painkillers and partly because Oswald had moved out of City Hall and into Ed's temporary base at what used to be the Main Public Library. They had been sleeping on separate cots until one night when Oswald got _particularly_ drunk on some homebrew alcohol he'd traded a box of ammunition for. He and Ed, both drunk and touch-starved, collapsed onto the mattress by the fireplace. They woke up curled around each other. Neither man spoke of it when they woke up. However, after that night, they wordlessly agreed to continue that particular arrangement since it had been the best night's sleep they'd had all year.

Edward dismissed the ache in his chest. Sleeping next to his friend was just so he would be available to help if Oswald woke up in the middle of the night from the pain... or so he told himself. Edward was always one step ahead with a glass of water and a paracetamol. Old habits and desires die hard as the days pass and he falls back into the steady rhythm that he never realized he was nostalgic for. The role of caretaker. The title of best friend. Oswald was more than capable of taking care of himself. But... this gave Ed something to do. And Oswald allowed him that luxury.

Oswald's eyes flutter open that morning and he is greeted by the sight of Edward staring back at him. It's a sight that both men have silently given the other permission to indulge on these quiet mornings. An intimacy both of them yearn for but neither will admit. Not like they needed to. Not out loud.

Ed reaches out to move the hair out from in front of Oswald's eyes but stops when he sees the steely expression of his friend. He was trembling. Either out of anger or anxiousness, Ed wasn't sure. He pulls his hand back in surrender and places it within eyesight.

“How long have you been watching me sleep?” Oswald asks. His voice bordering on irritated

“Oh... maybe an hour or so.” Ed confessed. His only point of reference for the time was the light coming in through the window. The room was bathed in blue when he first opened his eyes. Now there was a streak of light peaking through the shutters that painted a halo around Oswald's sharp edges.

“Is my face really that interesting?” Oswald rolled his good eye

“Not really.” Ed lied, “My arm is pinned under you.”

“Why didn't you just wake me up?”

“Rest is important to the healing process.” Ed voiced his excuse, “My arm is asleep.”

“Good. I hope it falls off.” Oswald rolled over and groaned. Ed flexed his hand and grimaced at the tingling in his fingers.

Their provisions were less than stellar. Boxes of rations, cans of unidentifiable meat, and bottles of water were what they had to live off of until Gotham stabilized. It certainly wasn't a comfortable lifestyle, by any means. But it was nice knowing that their food supply wouldn't simply run out. The military had already removed the mines from the river and supplies were being ferried in at all hours of the day and night.

They were attempting to enjoy breakfast when Ed got an itch he couldn't scratch. Curiosity gripped him and he felt the need to ask.

“What was your plan for when we left Gotham?” Ed could barely contain himself. He had all kinds of scenarios running through his mind. Perhaps Oswald would make his way to the top of the criminal underworld of Metropolis. Maybe he would have left the country. Moved to Hungary. He could have done anything at that point. He still could. Those possibilities delighted him to no end.

Oswald chuckled and spooned more of the meat product on another stale cracker, “Do you want the honest answer?"

  
“Yes?” Ed cocked his head to the side, curious.

“I never planned on leaving Gotham.”

“....What are you talking about? Barbara-”

“-I gave Barbara the... oh, what was that called? The pressure regulator valve?” Oswald smiled at Ed's dumbfounded expression, “Honestly, I'm surprised you never figured that out. She never had access to the sub. Only you or I could get in and out of the cabin.”

“Then why did you have me build the damn thing?!” Ed yelled

“So you could escape.” Oswald sighed his confession, “You always said you wanted to leave Gotham. Go somewhere sunnier. Start over. I denied you that life once... So, I wanted to make it up to you.”

“You're an idiot.” Ed bared his teeth. The _nerve_ of that man.

“And yet we are still friends. What does that say about you?” Oswald gave him a cheeky smile

Edward shook his head, “I wasn't going to leave without you.”

“I realize that now.” Oswald made a face, “That was certainly a detail that I overlooked.”

“Yeah, and now the treasure is at the bottom of the river!”

“Well, it _wouldn't_ be if you had just left like I told you! And _don't_ lie to me. You and I both know you could have piloted the sub on your own.” He scolded

“You might have died if I hadn't stayed.” Edward growled

“Fine by me!” Oswald growled back, “At least my death would have meant something.”

Ed could think of a million things to say in response to his friend's foolishness. His sacrifice would have been wasteful, at best. His body would have been lined up like all of the rest outside the Green Zone. No one would have claimed him and he would be thrown on the pyre with the rest of the nameless corpses. Forgotten and alone. Even in death.

Edward dismissed himself from the table without another word. He needed to leave before he said something he'd regret.

Oswald slumped in his chair the moment the door closed. Edward had been so accommodating in the month after the battle at the barricade. He'd even taken a bullet to the shoulder when he ventured outside the safety of their base. His self-sacrificial kindness was more than Oswald deserved and it only served to bruise Penguin's ego further. He was going to have to pull his weight eventually. It might as well be today...

Edward needed the fresh air. There weren't many tall buildings nearby so he felt confident he wouldn't be sniped off of the rooftop. He leaned against the water tower and pulled the bullet out of his pocket. It was the one Lee had dug out of his shoulder. A souvenir for all of his troubles. A token to remind him of the important things in his life. The feel of it in the palm of his hand quieted the voices in his mind. Well... most of them.

“ _We should tell him.”_ The invasive voice of The Other broke away from their shared consciousness. He isn't sure if it belongs to Ed or The Riddler or if it's just his mind playing tricks on him. He'd never really figured out the puzzle that was his own mind and doubted he ever would. And he certainly wasn't going to allow some doctor to poke around in that open wound in some feeble attempt to make sense of it.

“ _He needs that reassurance. Always has.”_ The voice spoke, _“We need to lay all of our cards on the table and let him know our intentions moving forward.”_

“And what are our intentions, exactly?” Ed asked. But no response came. It seemed even he didn't know the answer.

Edward ventured back into the main room of the library when he heard the sound of cars from the rooftop. He passed several of Oswald's men carrying boxes and crates of ammo out to the armored vans.

“We're moving!” Oswald greeted him at the door.

“Where to?” Edward's tone lacked any and all amusement.

“Back to my father's estate. My men scouted out the area and, as luck would have it, it seems no one bothered venturing that far out of the city.”

“So, you thought you'd steal my stuff and haul it off to the mansion?” Ed raised an eyebrow

“Our stuff.” Oswald corrected

“This is MY base!” Ed yelled, his fuse still short from their earlier spat

“OUR base!” he countered

“YOU moved in here after they kicked you out of City Hall!” Edward jammed a finger into Oswald's chest

“Well, where was I SUPPOSED to go!” Oswald snapped at Edward's face like a piranha.

“I don't know!” Ed yelled

“You're impossible.” Oswald laughed

“Yeah, well, same to you!” Ed pouted. His weak retort made him feel smaller than he liked.

“Sooo... where are we taking these, Boss?” One of the Penguin's lackeys asked, clearly confused by their arguing.

The Riddler and the Penguin stopped and glared. The man gulped.

“Last I checked, I don't pay you to ask questions.” Oswald bowed up to the man. His morning cigarette still on his breath. He stabbed the air as he pointed toward the doorway, “To the van. Like I already told you.”

“But... uhh...” he gestured to the Riddler

Edward rolled his eyes, “Hey, _buddy_. What can only attack once it's been pulled back in a dark tunnel?”

“Uuuhhh...”

“A _bullet._ Which is what I'm going to put between your ears if you don't skedaddle.”

The man scurried away.

“You need better goons.” Ed shook his head and then sighed, “Would it have killed you to let me in on the plan?”

“Alright. FINE.” Oswald grumbled, “Pardon me for my assumptions, but I figured you would be needing a place to stay once Jim does his sweep of this area. Which, need I remind you, could be _any_ day now. We can't exactly keep squatting in the library. The City will be needing it back.”

“I know that.”

“Then, what was _your_ plan?” Oswald asked, already knowing the answer.

“I hadn't finished working out the details...” Ed mumbled. Truthfully, he _had_ no plan.

“Exactly. Which is precisely why I took the initiative.” he scoffed, “Now. If you are quite done being difficult, make yourself useful and help me carry these boxes.”

Olga was already set to the task of restoring the mansion to her former glory. The windows were thrown open and the interior smelled of lemon and floor polish. White tarps covered the furniture like ghosts. It was a bit like stepping into a time capsule. Newspapers with headlines reading _Mayor Crumblepot_ and _Check Mate: Chess Killer Electrifies Competition! s_ at on the table where they'd been left.

“Home sweet home.” Oswald spoke from the entryway. He was using his cane today. Hauling away all of their supplies and vacating the library on such short notice had strained his injuries. They shared a look. One that spoke volumes, “Of course, don't let me stop you from carving out your own plot of land elsewhere. But, in the meantime, I had Olga freshen up your old room.”

“How thoughtful.” Ed's voice was deep. He wanted to be thankful for the Penguin's hospitality but the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. Men such as him weren't allowed a comfortable welcome.

Days carry over into weeks and Ed was miserable. He hated how easy it was to fall back into their old routine. He'd even gotten back into the habit of making Oswald's tea in the morning when he got up to make himself a pot of coffee. Oswald would always smile at him in that way that he used to and Ed hated that he _didn't_ hate it.

He was comfortable... and it made the guilt all the worse.

Oswald had gotten up in the middle of the night from a headache. Since moving back to the mansion, the two men had cozied up into their separate rooms at night. Which, of course, meant that Ed wasn't readily available to doctor his wounds at night if he woke up worse for wear.

He made it down the hall with his glass of water when he heard a muffled cry coming from Ed's room.

“Ed?” He opened the door and saw that his friend was awake... but not moving. His jaw was clenched tight and his brow was pinched in distress. Without another thought, Oswald closed the distance between the doorway and the bed and threw himself next to his friend.

“It's alright, Ed. I'm right here.” he pet his hair, “Can you move?”

Ed struggled to respond.

Oswald, at a loss of what to do with someone suffering from sleep paralysis, continued the wipe sweat from his forehead and whisper reassurances. The moment passed and Edward threw himself upward with choking gasps. Oswald caught him and held him as he righted himself. He gave him the glass of water he'd intended for himself and then made his way downstairs.

Oswald made their coffee that morning.

“How long has that been going on?” Oswald asked, spreading butter on Ed's toast before handing it to him. Ed took it but didn't have much of an appetite for it. Or much of anything, really.

“It only happens when I'm alone...” he admitted, “It started a few weeks after Haven.”

“Haven wasn't your fault, Ed.” Oswald reminded. He felt responsible for not keeping a closer eye on the mad scientist when he'd left Ed's body on that slab. But that guilt paled in comparison to what Ed felt about the ordeal.

Ed clenched his jaw, “I know that...”

“Is there something else that's bothering you?” Oswald raised an eyebrow. He'd known tensions were high between them but they weren't comfortable enough in their situations to discuss it. However, now that there was a shared moment of vulnerability, Oswald hoped they might be able to move past all of that.

“What does it matter to do?” Ed snapped and then immediately bit down his regret. Who does Oswald think he is being so friendly?

Oswald didn't respond. Only stared. Ed stared back.

Oswald blinked and then absentmindedly rubbed at his injured eye. It was a tick he'd developed once it healed. Anytime he thought about Ed or their past, he rubbed at his eye. Almost like the injury ached in response. Perhaps Ed was thinking about it too much and it was only a coincidence. Oswald didn't seem to notice the connection. Or, if he did, he never drew attention to it.

Ed sighed. His shoulders slumped and he pressed his fingers into his eyes. Being vulnerable, for either of them, was a risk. Experience taught them that, even though they could work with one another and tolerate their quirks, they were each other's greatest weakness. Betrayal was inevitable. Or, perhaps it wasn't. That uncertainty, among other things, was what kept Ed at the mansion.

“The last time Strange operated on me, I was awake.” Ed finally spoke

Oswald made a face like he didn't quite understand what was being said.

“When he was repairing the chip. He...” Ed hitched a breath. His hands started to tremble, “I could _feel_ everything... But I couldn't move.”

Ed didn't want to relive the details. He knew Oswald could fill in the blanks well enough and get some idea of what Ed had experienced that day in that dirty warehouse. It was a language that only they knew. They knew the other and could map out their thoughts without any words being spoken. They would often finish each other's sentences and could divulge secrets without ever having to incriminate themselves or expose their hearts to the open air. They swam in the sea that was plausible deniability.

Oswald placed his hand atop his friend's. It was a gesture that reminded them too much of wasted potential. Ed's hand burned but he refused to move it.

“Do you think he might have done some kind of damage?” Oswald asked

“No. It's probably only psychosomatic.” Ed explained

“Have you been suffering nightmares?”

“Yes.”

“About Haven?”

“Among other things.” Like not having control of his own mind and body. The crack of the grenade. Oswald screaming. Rain fogging his glasses as he pulls the trigger and makes the biggest mistake of his life...

“It seems we have switched places.” Oswald muses and gives a sad smile, “You took care of me through my night terrors after what Strange did to me in Arkham. It seems Fate would have me repay the favor.”

“You don't need to. It will work itself out eventually.” Ed finished his toast with a sigh

“I know I don't _need_ to, idiot.” Oswald scoffed, “Just like I didn't _need_ to give you a place to stay. I do it because I want to.” Oswald's lip quivered, “...Because you are my friend.”

Ed doesn't look up. He doesn't need to see what kind of expression Oswald is wearing. He already knows, “I can be stolen at first glance or temper over time. I make you weak at the knees but also give you the strength of heroes. What am I?”

Love. Oswald knew the answer but refused to answer it aloud.

There is a beat of silence shared between them.

“I've gone this whole time thinking that you were incapable of actually loving me... that you were just possessive or trying to use me for your own ends. But... you could have died. Any number of times. All to protect me.”

“Ed, we don't need to talk about this. You already know how I feel-”

“No. I don't think that I did...” He lightly grazes his knuckles along Oswald's cheek, just under the bandage, “But now I do.” Ed shook his head, disbelieving it even as the truth stared him in the face, “Even after all these years?”

“The heart keeps its own time.”

They hardly speak the rest of the day. Oswald is busy at work rebuilding his empire. Ed is doing much the same by re-purposing an underground hideout. If everything went according to plan, the Riddle Factory would be back in business just in time for Reunification.

He had every intention of solidifying the Riddler as a fiend to be feared in Gotham's underground. He didn't desire power or riches like Oswald. He only wanted to have fun and secure the freedom to be himself. Not long ago, he thought he could only accomplish that goal by removing Oswald from his life. But, if the past year had taught him anything, it was that he _could_ have both. If he desired it... If Oswald wanted it... If...

Ed is reading over some of the old newspapers that had been on his desk. They were all from the time that Oswald had gone missing. Ed kept them as macabre souvenirs. Now they only served as reminders of past mistakes. He tears the newsprint in half and throws them into the fire.

He found a box of Oswald's records when cleaning the clutter off of his desk. Music had been a luxury that he missed and so he didn't hesitate to place the needle on the record and relax to the sweet tunes. An older song by Annette Hanshaw echoed through the room.

_"Take your share of troubles_  
_Face it and don't complain_  
_If you want the rainbow, you must have the rain."_

Ed doesn't have to turn around to know that Oswald is standing behind him.

  
_"Happiness comes double_  
_After a little pain_  
_If you want the rainbow_  
_You must have the rain."_

“I have already forgiven you, Ed.” Oswald stared into the fire. He'd seen the way Ed looked when he read over the faded articles, “Don't you think it is about time you forgave yourself?”

“I don't think I ever will.” If Ed had been younger, he might have cried. But he isn't entirely sure he's capable of that anymore. He closes the distance between them and, without really thinking, caresses Oswald's cheek, “I don't deserve your friendship.”

Oswald closes his eyes and leans into him. Their experimental touches were becoming more frequent. More relaxed. More natural. Ed stokes his thumb over Oswald's cheekbone.

“Is that what this is? A friendship?” Oswald asks. His voice breathy. Ed knows what he really means by the question.

“I... don't know what it is.” Ed confesses and his hand falls at his side. Limp and heavy. Oswald sighs.

“Well, when you figure that out, let me know.” Oswald rolls his eye, “I don't know about you, but I am exhausted. I think I will head to bed early tonight.”

“May I join you?” Ed asks. Oswald raises an eyebrow. Ed clears his throat, “It might help me sleep.”

“Whatever you need, Ed. Anything at all.” He smiled and then made his way upstairs.

Oswald was already sound asleep when Ed crawled into bed. Like usual, Oswald has wrapped himself in all of the blankets. Ed chuckles and curls up beside his friend. Content with the cold if it meant he could wake up to the best view in all of Gotham.

Oswald wakes up to Ed staring at him again.

“How long have you been watching me sleep?” he asks, not nearly as annoyed as he was weeks before.

“All night.” Ed admits

“You didn't sleep?”

“Couldn't. Too busy thinking...” He leaned in. Their noses grazing against one another.

Oswald's lips brushed against Ed's as he spoke, “So, have you decided what you wanted?'

“Hmm... Let me sleep on it.” He snuggled up against Oswald and nuzzled against his shoulder. He smiled at how warm his cheeks were.

“You are an insufferable ass.” Oswald laughed but pulled Edward closer to him. He could afford a few more hours of sleep. Perhaps they would awaken to brighter weather and Gotham in the palm of their hands. And it would all be worth it.


End file.
